


a tale of two marriages

by Mystic_Diamond



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hadestown Fusion, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Diamond/pseuds/Mystic_Diamond
Summary: Dorothea is the daughter of a muse. Ingrid is her wife, who only yearns for a bed to lay down in, and food to fill her stomach. Felix doesn't see his husband for half the year, so he builds him a whole city to get him to stay longer. Dimitri only wishes for Felix to stop being such an uncommunicative asshole.You know how this story ends. If not, Yuri is happy to repeat it to you.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	a tale of two marriages

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to the entire Hadestown soundtrack at 2 AM in the morning for the first time and was inspired to write this before I was even finished with all of the songs. This was written in the span of three days. I know, I know: I should focus on writing my Dimimari WIP. Just let me have this.
> 
> Content warnings: occasional references to death by starvation, alcohol abuse, some mentions of blood here and there. Other than that, I don't think there's anything too disturbing, but let me know if you feel something else needs to be tagged.
> 
> Unfortunately, this is compliant with the ending of Hadestown. Very sorry in advance.

Ingrid learned early on that no one is exempt from falling and stumbling in life. She learned it very early on when her family fell from grace and they were left penniless. Her parents thought that if they sold all of their non-essential belongings, it would stockpile enough savings to keep them going for a few years, but once again, things didn't go as planned. 

More misfortune caused them to spend more than what they initially planned: one of Ingrid’s younger brothers falling ill, their grandmother passing away suddenly, and a horrible forest fire ravaging a whole season’s worth of crops for them. 

Poverty and famine dominated much of Ingrid’s childhood, and it ended up stealing away the rest of her family, leaving her the one who had to bury them all next to each other, an extra grave left empty for when her time will eventually come.

Ingrid swore to herself that she will not fill that grave until she is old, well-fed, and ready to meet her parents and her brothers and her grandmother to tell them that she lived a very long, very fulfilling life. She swore to her oldest brother that she would live past his age and beyond, and swore quietly inside her heart that if she does die, she will not die crying and begging for food like her youngest brother.

But even after poverty and famine dominated Ingrid’s childhood and her teenage years, stealing away her innocence and her optimism and her entire family, it decided that it wasn’t done with her yet and continued to hound her footsteps as she crossed over the threshold into adulthood. It chased behind her like a shadowy dog, prowling silently and feeding upon the way Ingrid’s hands shook as she forced herself to beg for scraps.

Ingrid never thought that she, insecure and desperate and begging other people just one match to keep her warm for the night, would ever fall in love. But Dorothea saw her, thin and with dark circles rimming her eyes from too many sleepless nights on a poor excuse of mattress, and asked her if she wanted to come home with her.

Ingrid couldn’t believe her ears at first, laughed off Dorothea’s claims that the two of them will marry one day. For one thing, Dorothea was just as skinny as her. She was certainly beautiful enough to occupy a rich man’s arm, but if she was living on the same side of the railroad as Ingrid, they were most certainly in the same boat in regards to finances.

She was flattered by the attention, yes. But she was also taught by her parents that marriage is a way to raise your station in life, and there would be no chance of climbing up high enough to escape the poverty and famine licking at Ingrid’s heels if she decided to marry Dorothea.

But then Dorothea sang, and Ingrid witnessed the rivers and the trees and the birds sing along with her, weaving a wedding out of a song. The song promised her a ring, a feast, and a bed, and that was what Ingrid was given.

Dorothea carried a blessed voice, and was called the Mystical Songstress for the things she could make out of her songs. They said that Yuri, the witty messenger god with winged sandals of gold, watched over her and gave her wisdom, for he was an old friend of her mother.

All her life, Ingrid tried her best to not believe in miracles. But even though cynicism still coated the inside of her chest, even though poverty and famine still clung to the soles of her feet, Dorothea looked at her and saw her future wife.

Dorothea herself was a miracle in the shape of a woman, and Ingrid, despite her weary heart and the thorns of her past still pricking against her ribcage, wanted to reach out and lay down in the bed her magical songs wove out of nothing. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
Felix’s eyes were of a burnished gold color, and looked as if they were always lit aflame, like a candle. Well, Dimitri compared them to candlelight when they first met, thousands of years ago, but now, the color of his husband’s eyes reminded him of the burning furnace of the underworld, crackling and piercing needles into Dimitri’s flesh as they looked at each other.

“That wasn’t six months and you know it,” Dimitri snapped, not realizing what he said until the words already ripped themselves out of his mouth.

“I missed you,” was all that Felix had in lieu of a reply, eyes sparkling like they were sharing an inside joke.

Dimitri didn’t find it particularly funny.

Felix slipped a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a heavy-looking ring embellished with far too many jewels than it was fashionable. He then knelt on one knee and presented it to Dimitri the way mortals do when proposing marriage.

(That wasn’t, of course, how Felix actually proposed. He didn’t even kneel. He had proposed by slipping an arm around Dimitri’s waist and sweeping his other arm out towards his kingdom and promised every jewel that sparkled within the depths there will belong to Dimitri as much as they already belonged to Felix.)

Dimitri forced himself to smile and took the ring. It weighed heavy on his hand like an iron shackle. The only other ring Dimitri wore on his hands at the moment was his wedding band, but he knew Felix expected him to open his jewelry box later tonight and weigh his hands down with more gemstones. Take off the flowers fastened to his lapels and behind his ears as well.

“Oh, and what was spent in order for you to craft me this?”

“Just a few broken backs, don’t worry. They’ll be fine and back to work in a few days, if they’re the good employees I know them to be.”

Dimitri must’ve lost control of his carefully placed expression because Felix suddenly blurted out, “If you don’t like the design of it, I’ll drag those damned workers out of bed myself so they can mine better jewels for a new one.”

“No!” Dimitri exclaimed a little too harshly. He then fixed another smile on his face to say, “No, I love it. Just as beautiful as the piece you gave me last fall.”

Felix, however, wasn’t pleased with that. He scowled and snatched the gaudy ring off of Dimitri’s finger. “You don’t deserve jewelry  _ just as beautiful _ . You deserve jewelry  _ more beautiful  _ every year. I’ll craft you a new one as quickly as possible.”

_ You mean  _ they  _ will _ , Dimitri thought bitterly in his head, but it goes unspoken.

Instead, the words nestled bitterly in his chest, where he remembered adoration for his husband used to rest.

  
  


* * *

  
  
Winters were terrible, both Dorothea and Ingrid agreed, but they were worse when they overstayed their welcome.

Whenever Dimitri, Prince of Spring, returned from the underworld, mugs of wine were lifted in celebration and the first few weeks of the warm season were spent in dizzying festivals of alcohol, laughter, and songs. Dorothea often led the singing in celebration for the return of the harvest and the sun, but Ingrid was mostly just happy for food that was available.

But then there was the inevitable screech of a sleek black train down the railroad, and lately, Ingrid was sure that the train came far sooner than six months was supposed to last.

The Prince of Spring then meets with the King of the Underworld at the train station, and mortals like Ingrid and Dorothea were forced to watch the bearer of their harvest slip his arm into the crook of his husband’s elbow, and off the godly couple went, the warmth and laughter of summer following them and then vanishing into thin air as the train was swallowed up by the underworld.

The ensuing cold of autumn and winter made Ingrid’s hunger claw at her insides like a wild animal. She felt as hollow as she did as a child, but it was made worse because she knew her wife was just as hungry as her.

“Dorothea, I think you can take a break from writing your song,” Ingrid pleaded to her one day.

“No, you don’t understand,” Dorothea shook her head, and continued to light her lantern so she could continue her composing into the night. “My song is what will keep us from going hungry. My voice was what saved me from a life of begging as a child, and it will keep you from having to beg, too.”

“What is this song even about?” Ingrid asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding needy or helpless.

“The melody I have is from a song long ago,” Dorothea explained, tapping her quill against the parchment where lyrics were being written. “A song that told the story of love between King Felix, of the Underworld, and Prince Dimitri, of Spring.”

“I have a hard time believing those two love each other,” Ingrid chuckled bitterly. “I see them leave every year when summer ends, and Dimtri doesn’t look all too happy to get on that train. And why would he, huh? He’s supposed to be up here on the surface for half the year, but his husband keeps stealing him away too early every time. Felix doesn’t care what children will starve during winter as long as he covets his husband away from the people who rely on him. The gods are uncaring, like always.”

“Once upon a time, Dimitri went down to the underworld willingly, though. It sounds unbelievable, but he did. Ascended the throne to a kingdom where the sun doesn’t shine and flowers cannot grow, and wedded a husband with a fabled black heart of ice. The key to writing and completing this song, my Ingrid, to find the romance in such a story.”

“Hard to find romance in a union between Life and Death, though,” Ingrid sighed. She can never understand the work that goes into her wife’s songs. “Sometimes, I wonder what the Prince of Spring does while he’s underground, if not constantly placating his husband.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
“Anyone want another drink?” Dimitri called out and was answered with a roar of loud agreement.

  
  


* * *

  
  
Ingrid figured that once the town realized she had been gone for far too long, they’ll spin tales about how she left her wife because she was hungry and Dorothea could not provide. Maybe on a surface level, that was true, but simply being hungry wasn’t the straw that broke Ingrid’s back.

No, that was the realization that though the food that occupied Ingrid’s plate was small, Dorothea’s was even smaller. The bowls of soup Dorothea sustained herself on were suspiciously thin, while Ingrid’s bowls were always warm and hearty, as much as they could be, at least.

And even though Ingrid knew Dorothea was being wonderfully selfless, knew that her wife was doing this from the bottom of her heart, Ingrid couldn’t help but feel furious, and a little bit sick.

Starving oneself so that another could eat was how Ingrid’s father died. He was the last member of her family she had to bury.

It has never been easy being hungry, but it is a lot easier to be hungry alone. Ingrid could never live with herself if she was the reason for Dorothea’s plate growing smaller by the day, even if the gesture was made out of love.

It has never been easy being alone, but somehow, the loneliness on Ingrid’s shoulders felt heavier than she remembered. The hollowness inside her scraped at her for reasons completely unrelated to hunger.

Ingrid knew she could give up having a warm bed, for she survived many nights without one, but she didn’t realize how hard it was to give up the musical sound of her wife welcoming her home, the soft embrace of her at night, until it was already too late.

  
  


* * *

  
  
"I thought you said you were just going to craft me a new ring," Dimitri said when Felix plucked the flower out of his husband's hair to replace it with an embellishment of diamonds and sapphires.

"I love to spoil my spouse, what can I say?" The flower shriveled and turned black once it made contact with Felix's hand, and he was wearing gloves, too! Truly, his husband's domain clashed too hard with his.

There was a crease in between Dimitri’s brows that conveyed the discomfort the rest of his face refused to show, and a vulnerable feeling welled up in Felix’s throat.

Dimitri’s domain was of flowers and spring and rebirth, the return of life after a bleak cold, the creation of beautiful things. Meanwhile, Felix’s domain was of the dead and everything that lies beneath the earth. While Edelgard ruled the sky and Claude commanded the vastness of the sea, Felix was stuck ruling over a dreary land filled with moaning ghosts.

Dimitri willingly became consort over such a land, but it was a land where his flowers could not grow. Felix knew the aboveground was a much more beautiful place, where Dimitri was adored and his powers could flourish. What did the underworld have except miserable citizens who shuddered and fled into the shadows at the slightest movement and Felix himself? What if, one day, Dimitri decided he wanted the love of the mortals more than he wanted the love of his husband?

Felix could not create life with his powers, but he could command his citizens with them. Thus, the underground electric city was born, with a furnace that mimicked the brightness and warmth of sunlight. When the workers weren’t slaving away building Felix’s wall, they were mining gemstones and polishing them to a shine. Felix knew very little about flowers, since he was incapable of getting close enough to smell them, but didn’t the colors of rare precious stones outshine the colors of dandelions and such? What was so beautiful about a rose that a finely polished ruby couldn’t possess?

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate gifts, beloved,” Dimitri began. “It’s just that I severely dislike how little you care about those responsible for making them.”

“They’re all too happy to do it,” Felix said derisively. He doesn’t speak to Claude much, but his brother adorned his wife with all of the treasures of the sea and Petra only seemed to love him more for it. Apparently, his marriage wasn’t as simple. “I don’t see much of a problem.”

“You know we used to live just fine without all of this, right?” Dimitri snapped, waving a hand around. “What is the point, beloved? All of these factories and furnaces and the damn wall? Do you want to rule over your citizens like a tyrant? Is that it?”

Dimitri’s eyes burned with a cold fire and Felix suddenly felt helpless. Briefly, he wanted to grab onto his husband’s hands and plead what is he doing wrong and what can he do to make it better? Then that feeling of helplessness got smothered under the fire of his own temper.

“I made it all for you: the furnace and the buildings and the wall. But you don’t appreciate that, do you? You see my furnaces and think it’s  _ unsightly  _ and  _ unnatural  _ compared to your precious sunlight? You throw away all of my gifts the moment I leave the room! You say I’m responsible for all the suffering of my citizens, but  _ you’re _ the one rendering all of their labors useless by being a spoiled prince who thinks himself too good for this place!”

“At least I don’t break their backs and call it good work!”

“They want to work! They do everything for the sake of feeding themselves and I provide for them! In exchange, I have them build a beautiful city for my husband who doesn’t even bother to glance at it!”

“Well, then find someone else you can give this plastic city to!”

“ _ Perhaps I will! _ ” Felix roared and his words were edged with plumes of hellfire. His eyes burned brightly, to the point that it would’ve been physically harmful for a mortal to look upon them. 

Dimitri stood firm against his gaze, however, only breaking the moment his husband stormed out, tears shed at the feeling of emptiness carved inside his chest, where he remembered his heart had once fluttered with the knowledge that Felix loved him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
“I think I lost the melody,” Dorothea whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to spill upon the parchment where she was composing her song. “I lost the song of their love. I can no longer hear it.”

“Admittedly, I’ve been to those two’s wedding,” Yuri sighed from behind her desk chair, planting his palm to his forehead. “Trust me, very few people believed they would make it.” He cupped his chin. “Though admittedly, at least it’s not as disastrous as Hilda and Lorenz’s marriage, but that was doomed from the start because Hilda had decided she loved  _ Caspar _ , of all people, before the marriage was negotiated. Ha, you think a love affair between Life and Death is strange, try Love and War.”

“Yuri, you don’t understand,” Dorothea cut in. “This was supposed to save me and my wife from starving, but Ingrid hasn’t come back and it’s been a week, so I threw myself into completing this song because I remembered my singing was what brought her to me, and I thought completing the song would have her come back. But now I’ve lost the melody because the gods are fighting for who knows what, and I can’t remember the last time I ate a satisfying meal, and I miss my Ingrid, a-a-and--”

“Dorothea,  _ breathe _ ,” Yuri interrupted her, lifting her up from her chair and wrapping her in his embrace.

Dorothea knew this gesture well, for this was what Yuri always did to soothe her as a child. He was the messenger of the gods and knew her mother very well. He has watched over her like a guardian angel for as long as Dorothea could remember.

“My wife is gone, isn’t she?” Dorothea finally whispered, and it’s the weakest her voice has ever felt in a long time. Tears were already smudging her vision and had it not been for Yuri holding onto her, she would’ve collapsed from her knees giving out. “I couldn’t provide for her like I promised and so she _ left  _ me, didn’t she?”

Yuri had no choice but nod and confirm that yes, her wife did indeed leave her of her own choice and not because of a terrible abduction or a foolish misunderstanding.

Such a revelation would’ve made other people bitter and selfish, perhaps wish harm on the one who broke their heart, but all Dorothea did was weep and quietly beg for Ingrid’s forgiveness from underneath her breath.

  
  


* * *

  
  
Ingrid had tried her best to set it out alone for as long as she could. She didn’t want to have to owe anyone anything. She knew the danger of not reading the contract thoroughly well, had seen it doom her parents with her own eyes, but the combination of hunger, loneliness, and the raw wound in her chest that was still left bleeding from the sin betraying her wife had left her desperate. 

The fact that she had left behind the only person left in the world who loved her without a word had left her with enough self loathing that she didn’t care what happened to her body, as long as she could put food in it.

She never thought she would ever meet the King of the Underworld wandering on the surface. The man was much . . . . . shorter than she imagined, and he wore sunglasses despite the fact that it was a cloudy day and no one has seen sunlight in forever, no thanks to him.

Ingrid was glad he didn’t try to seduce her, for what would’ve made her vomit in her mouth. Instead, he offered a bed for her, a source of food, a roof over her head, far away from the barren place the surface world has become. He offered her a job in his underground city, and a place to finally rest her aching body.

Ingrid knew she was already deeply wounded from leaving Dorothea, but she could feel the invisible knife stab skewer her bleeding flesh even further when she signed away her life, her soul, to the King of the Underworld.

With her signature on Felix’s contract, and her ticket punched for a ride straight down to the realm of the dead, she was gone.

  
  


* * *

  
  
“Yuri, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it’s rather useless for me to be friends with the god of transportation if you didn’t know where my wife went when she left. I checked all over town, and no one has seen her. She must’ve left for elsewhere, and she clearly can’t do that on foot, so that means you  _ must  _ know where she decided to go, correct?”

“Clever and sharp as ever,” Yuri said with a proud smile. “So you decided that you’re not going to let her slip away, huh?”

“I just want to know if she’s going to a safe place,” Dorothea said softly, clasping her hands together. “If she’s decided her place is no longer at my side . . . . . then I’m fine with that. But I can’t sleep at night at the idea Ingrid could be harmed while she’s alone, so I just want you to check if she’s somewhere safe and she’s provided for.”

“She’s provided for, but she’s nowhere near safe,” Yuri answered with a dark look on her face. "She’s taken a ticket to the underworld, where only the dead and the desperate go to lose their souls.”

“No!”

“Felix is cruel, I must admit,” Yuri continued, pressing a palm to his forehead. “He doesn’t care for the fates of mortals, only needs them for cheap labor to build an empire no one can appreciate except him and his husband. He must’ve promised your wife food and shelter, but in order to earn such things in the underworld, you have to bleed. Build walls, mine gemstones, burn coal in this enormous furnace. It’s labor that’s guaranteed to suck your soul out.”

“Ingrid doesn’t deserve that, how dare he prey upon her desperation and hunger!” Dorothea seethed, slamming a fist against her desk. Her expression suddenly shifted. “And the only reason she’s hungry and desperate is because of me.”

“It’s not too late,” Yuri cut in, bracing his hands on Dorothea’s shoulders. “You can still get to her before her soul is lost, but I advise against taking the train. Felix will immediately know you’re coming if you do.”

“Then what do you suggest, oh god of travel?”

“There’s a long path you can take from the back, but it’s on foot,” Yuri answered. “A mortal’s feet are guaranteed to bleed if they choose to set off on this trek, but it’s the best way to reach the underworld without the king stopping you somewhere on the way.”

“I’d go even if the path guaranteed my feet would be rendered completely useless afterwards. I’m known for my singing first and foremost before my dancing, after all,” Dorothea chuckled, even if there was a note of somberness there. Still, a determined fire was lit in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
Ingrid completed signing her papers and slid them across the table to a trio of women all dressed the same. One possessed hair as white as her dress and was rather small and frail. The woman next to her was somehow even shorter, but had vibrantly red hair and large blue eyes. The tallest among the three had a plumper, fuller figure than her friends and thick blonde hair kept short. 

“Genuinely hope you enjoy your new life in the underworld!” the redhead chirped.

“Because the regret doesn’t settle in until you’ve spent at least three days here,” the white-haired woman said darkly.

“You forgot to sign here, silly,” the blonde one said in a light, airy tone as she tapped a finger against the bottom of the contract.

“I didn’t want to starve there up above,” Ingrid blurted out as she hastily scribbled her name. For some reason, she felt like wanting to repent in front of these women. “I didn’t want to be responsible for my wife depriving herself either.”

“We’ve heard that story a million other times,” the white haired woman whined, rolling her eyes.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the redhead said, smiling gently.

“In any case, you’ll have a lot to relate to with the other employees here,” the blonde giggled, hand daintily covering her mouth. “That is, if they’re coherent enough to engage in conversation with you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
It was strange, how easy it was to forget your own name after you get used to working in the underworld. Of course, the boss insisted that it made controlling the masses easier, and if the boss says it’s a good thing, then it must be a good thing.

No one wanted to remember their lives above ground anyway. If they had lived pleasant lives up there, they wouldn’t be here. Simple logic.

However, some workers did end up remembering. Sometimes, that led to riots breaking out, work being halted and even sabotaged at times as a way to stick to the boss. The boss didn’t like that very much. The workers who incited riots often don’t come back the next day.

Rioting wasn’t a good idea. Simple logic.

The boss’s husband was a lot nicer to be around. He had a warm aura, smelled like traces of flowers and sunlight. He ran an oasis in the underworld, a good place to rest your feet. Your feet often bled when you worked in the mines for several weeks(?) on end. The boss’s husband felt bad when he saw bleeding feet and hands. Wept like it was his own hands and feet bleeding. He was a kind man like that.

Everyone cheers when the boss’s husband returns from aboveground. He’s down here a lot more often. That made the boss happy, so that must mean it’s a good thing.

A lot of wine is drunk in the boss’s husband’s oasis, but the boss’s husband drinks the most. The supplies in the oasis are limited because the boss’s husband can’t bring too much from the aboveground because the people up there need wind, rain, and sunlight too. The boss’s husband’s powers don’t work as well underground either, so one must pay to get the full experience of spring in the oasis.

The boss’s husband truly was a kind soul. No wonder the boss wanted him around all the time.

One could glimpse the sky in the oasis. See the stars from behind the crack in the wall. One had to pay to see that, too. What a kind soul the boss’s husband was.

There was a new worker in the underworld now. She was thin, like everyone else, with straw-colored hair and grass-colored eyes. She was strange, in that way all the new workers were.

She insisted on letting everyone know her name, not understanding that was not how things worked down here. She was surprised at how there was no food being sold at the oasis, not understanding that once you signed the papers, you no longer needed to eat because you were no longer living.

The boss was the king of the dead, after all. How could you work for him without having to give away your life, let alone live in the underworld?

The new worker argued a lot with the Fates, too. Those women were responsible for writing up the boss’s contracts. Screamed and cried that this was not what she wanted, not what she signed up for, and she wanted to go home. The Fates had no sympathy for her, merely shrugged their shoulders and said she had already signed her soul away.

The new worker kept whispering some name under her breath that was not her own. Quietly begging for someone to forgive her.

  
  


* * *

  
  
The wall has been broken. The boss isn’t going to like that.

Someone new emerges into the underworld, but not a new worker. In fact, this new person may not even be dead, either.

She has a beautiful voice. A magical one, a voice that managed to break through the wall.

The new worker, the one with the straw-colored hair, immediately leapt into the songstress’s arms. Wept and murmured nonsense into the songstress’s shoulder, but the songstress didn’t seem to mind. Only held her closer in their embrace, and wept too.

The boss isn’t going to like this.

  
  


* * *

  
  
“Are you really real?” Ingrid sobbed. Her voice was hoarse. She didn’t know how long she spent endlessly praying, endlessly begging for her wife’s forgiveness.

“I am, my darling,” Dorothea whispered. “I used my voice to find my way back to you. And Yuri’s help, too, but hey, I did the walking and the singing.”

“I don’t deserve this, you know. I ran away. I couldn’t stand being so hungry, so I turned my back on the only person left who loved me.”

“Oh no, my Ingrid! I’m the one who failed you. I couldn’t keep the promises I made on our wedding day. But I’m here now, my darling. I’m here.”

“Young lady,” a deep voice growled from behind Dorothea’s shoulders, and Dorothea could feel her wife shake at the sound of it. “You’re not from around here. And you’re not one of my employees. I can tell because you’re not  _ dead _ .”

They both turned around to face the King of the Underworld, without his trademark sunglasses shielding the burning flare of his eyes, eyes that were lit with hellfire.

“Felix,” another voice chimed in, stern. The Prince of Spring, Dimitri himself. “I know her. Don’t you dare a hand on her.”

“My love, you know I would be happy to lend an ear to you any other day, but shouldn’t you be emptying your cases of wine right about now?”

“My Ingrid doesn’t belong here,” Dorothea said, standing firm while keeping her wife shielded. “I’m here to take her back.”

“That’s not happening,” Felix chuckled, the edges of a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat. “She signed her life away in order to have a bed and roof here. Her soul belongs among the ranks of the dead. Belongs to  _ me _ .”

“No, it can’t be true,” Dorothea cried out. Her wife was still warm to touch in her arms. She can’t be dead.

“It’s true,” Ingrid whispered, hands trembling as she held herself close to Dorothea. “Everything he said is true.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“I’m afraid your wife signed a contract,” said the redheaded Fate.

“So I’m afraid her life belongs to His Majesty here,” said her white-haired sister.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about it,” chirped the tallest out of the three. “But we can arrange you a ticket on the train that’ll get you back to where you belong.”

“I’m not going back without my Ingrid!” Dorothea snapped at them.

“Foolish woman,” Felix said snidely. “I own everything and everyone who lives here, so who are you to think you can challenge a king?”

“You don’t know what someone is willing to do when they know they disappointed the person they love,” Dorothea hissed through gritted teeth. 

At that, the King of the Underworld went silent. Looked at his husband, who looked back at him with nothing but cold disdain.

The hammers that were dedicated to growing and expanding the wall went silent all around them. All at once, workers and dead souls everywhere began to wake up inside. Started to recognize themselves. Began to be aware of each other. How they outnumbered the one king by thousands.

Recognized the spirit of determination that glowed in the songstress Dorothea’s eyes. 

“We stand with her,” one of them murmured.

“We stand with her,” another repeated. 

“We stand with her,” it repeated on and on until a whole crowd was chanting in support of Dorothea, the songstress. The one who spoke out against a king.

Normally, Felix would’ve lost his temper and smited all of them. Showed his employees why their past uprisings never worked out. But Dimitri was staring at him with cold eyes, and that uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability was rising again in his throat.

Dimitri turned to walk away, and Felix was helpless to follow him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
“Just let the woman have her wife back. If you really are a king, why are you scared of a mortal?” The disdain in Dimitri’s eyes had now faded to simple disappointment, and the sight burned Felix. 

“Have another drink, my love, you’re acting out of sorts.” Felix reached out and grabbed another glass of wine, but his husband knocked it out of his grasp. The glass shattered to pieces on the floor.

“I’m done drinking just to let you have your way. I see the way that mortal woman looks at her wife. It’s the way you used to look at me.”

Felix finally had the mind to look upset, if only because he was aghast at his husband accusing him of no longer loving him.

“I was lying when I said I was going to replace you,” Felix said, and he could tell his control over his tone was slipping. He was beginning to sound panicked. Desperate. “That songstress’s wife means nothing to me.”

“If that’s true, then just let her go!”

“If those two leave without consequence, then the others will realize that they can leave!” Felix yelled. “And then I’ll rule an empty kingdom.”

“Ah, is that what you're scared of?” Dimitri asked. His tone was light, almost playful. “It’s just one mortal woman, beloved. She doesn’t care for what will happen to your kingdom. And her voice is powerful too, is it not? It brought down your wall. Perhaps it’ll tear your entire empire down if you don’t give her what she wants.”

“Do you just want me to suffer, my love?” Felix said in the most helpless voice his husband has ever heard him. He sounded as if he was close to having a meltdown. “Get revenge for all the times I coveted you away from your precious mortals? I may be a king, but I care for nothing in this wretched world I rule. Except you. You have so many waiting for you aboveground, but I have  _ nothing _ . No one but the miserable, moaning dead who are only good for building a wall I don’t even want!”

Felix chuckled bitterly before continuing.

“If you wish to kill me, all you have to do is leave me waiting at the train station. Live with your father full time. Don’t return to my arms in the autumn and winter, and I guarantee I’ll die of loneliness.”

“Beloved,” Dimitri said stiffly. His eyes were filled with more pity than Felix would like, but his gaze remained soft. Sympathetic. “All I ask is for you to consider the words of one mortal songstress. We can discuss our marriage later.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
“Sing a song, since that is what you did to break my wall,” Felix finally decided. “Sway my heart, if you find your music to be so powerful. My husband clearly likes you enough to fight against me.”

Dimitri was silent at that. His gaze suggested he was unamused. 

“You actually may have put my marriage in jeopardy,” Felix added with a sarcastic edge. “Congrats.”

Never has the underworld been free of the sounds of hammers and nails against the wall. The entire kingdom was under Dorothea’s sway, including Felix’s own husband. 

“Sing a me song,” Felix challenged the songstress. “Make me laugh or cry with anguish from it. Sing a song if that’s what you think will set your wife free.”

“It’s a deal,” Dorothea agreed and all of the dead souls in the underworld roared with anticipation.

  
  


* * *

  
  
Dorothea was set out on doing the impossible: conquer the King of the Underworld with her song.

She has an entire flock of Felix’s workers on her side, and her wife depending on her. She is but one mortal woman, but she was the daughter of a muse, guarded by Yuri, the messenger god.

She couldn’t falter now.

Seeing Felix and Dimitri in the flesh before her, watching them interact, made the echoes of her melody rise again from the sea of forgotten memories. The melody of their love. She can hear it once more, only needed to add lyrics to it.

She looked at Felix and Dimitri, who were now seated atop their thrones, awaiting her plea. She then looked at her Ingrid, whose hands were still shaking at the presence of the god who owned her soul, but still stood firm with Dorothea near.

Perhaps it was hubris, but she couldn’t help but think her marriage to Ingrid had a few parallels to the marriage of the King of the Underworld and his beloved Prince of Spring.

She opened her mouth and remembered the melody.

_ “La la la la la la . . . . . . . . .” _

  
  


* * *

  
  
The song the mortal woman sang was one of blasphemy. She had the audacity to compare the marriage of gods to her own. Claimed she knew how Felix felt about his own husband because that was how she felt about her wife.

Sang about how once upon a time, someone lonely met someone beautiful, in a field of flowers, and ached to take them home. When they saw them for the first time, it was like they always knew them. Felt like they were holding the world whenever they held them.

That was how Dorothea felt about Ingrid, and she dared to say Felix felt the same about Dimitri . . . . .

_ “La la la la la la . . . . . . .” _

. . . . . and the mortal woman was right.

_ “What has become of your heart, king of the dead? What has become of your heart?” _

What has become of Felix’s heart, indeed.

For the first time of what felt like an eternity, Felix turned to look at his husband. Really looked at him.

He built an empire on the backs of the dead because he felt like he had to fight to hold onto his beloved. What he never realized until now was that Dimitri was holding onto him too, since the beginning, but only began to slip away because of the factories and furnaces.

Felix never needed to fight in order to get Dimitri to love him more than the mortals. Dimitri had always honored their arrangement, never faltered, even when Felix was being selfish and jealous. Because as much as they fought and screamed and suffered from bitter silence, they never dared try and give up on one another.

That was love.

So Felix took Dimitri’s hand and led his husband into a dance. The last time they did this, they were young and were getting married against the wishes of Dimitri’s father. How the years flew by.

  
  


* * *

  
“The gods are dancing,” Dorothea breathed out in wonder.

“Because of your song,” Ingrid chimed in, a smile on her face. “You finally finished it. And now you can finally take me home. You did it, Dorothea! You conquered the gods with nothing but a song!”

“I’m so sorry for not honoring the promises I made to you when we got married,” Dorothea whispered. “I cannot give you anything that can last forever, I’m afraid.”

“The only thing I want to last forever is our marriage,” Ingrid said, tears forming in her eyes. “The only thing I ask is for you to hold onto me, love me, for as long as we both live. I thought I only needed food and fire to keep alive before, but when I was separated from you, I was as good as dead. I never want to feel that way again. Take me home, Dorothea. Take me home and love me forever.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
“I suppose it’s not going to be as simple as just taking the train home, huh?” Dorothea said to Felix. “But will you allow me to go home with my wife?”

“If you let them leave, there’s nothing you can do to stop the rest of your employees from following suit,” Lysithea remarked in Felix’s ear.

“The whole underworld might be left empty!” Annette said cheerfully.

“You’ll have to honor the mortal songstress for breaking your icy heart, but if she herself makes a mistake while climbing up those stairs out of here, then that’s on her!” Mercedes said with a pleasant smile.

Felix doesn’t need an empire for his husband to love him, but he needs dead souls in his kingdom in order to remain a god. Nothing against the mortal songstress, of course. He could even thank her for helping him out with his marriage.

But he doesn’t need her defiance against him to ignite a revolution in his realm.

“If you desire to leave with your wife, you will not hold her hand as you walk up those stairs,” Felix commanded. “You will not touch her at all, actually. Single file, your back to her, is how you’ll leave. Your wife will be behind you, but you must trust her that she is still behind you without ever turning to glance back. The two of you will not be allowed to speak to each other. Do not look back until the both of you are out of my domain.”

“This must be a trap of some kind,” Dorothea said. “You’re setting me up to fail.”

Yuri was right. His protege really was clever.

“This is a test,” was all Felix said in response, shrugging his shoulders. He gave Dorothea a chance, which was all that he needed to do to redeem himself in Dimitri’s eyes.

Whether or not Dorothea and Ingrid made it up out of the underworld was up to them. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
What happened after that, Yuri would perhaps replay over and over in his mind forever. 

The tale of Dorothea and Ingrid was a sad song, but one that was all too addictive. So on and on and on it repeated.

Perhaps if the two of them were allowed to speak as they ascended up the stairs, they would’ve been saved.

In Dorothea’s head, all she could think of was how this must’ve been a trap, that a king would never let one of his citizens slip out from between his fingers. She could hear the repetition of her own footsteps, but she dreaded the chance of Ingrid’s footsteps vanishing.

She dreaded the chance of Ingrid turning back and leaving her again, choosing the security of what the underworld could provide that she could not.

In Ingrid’s head, there was nothing but pride and hope because of her wife. For the first time, she felt excited for the future, excited for her and Dorothea to continue fighting against the world together once they were home in each other’s arms.

If her wife could conquer a god with her songs, then they could do anything. Ingrid no longer had any fear for the future, not anymore.

If the two of them were allowed to voice their thoughts, perhaps they could’ve been saved.

The footsteps of the workers following Dorothea and Ingrid up the stairs out of the underworld was akin to the sound of a steady drum.

“They’re leaving,” Dimitri remarked.

“They can try, at least,” Felix said.

“Is that what we’re going to do? Try and fix our marriage?”

“If that’s what you want, but spring is coming,” Felix shrugged. For once, he was right. He was returning his husband back above on time, without delay. “We can talk again in six months.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
_ I can’t believe that it was that easy, this must be a trap. _

_ I can see the sun again! Finally, we’re almost home! _

_ Did I really, truly defy a god with nothing but my voice? Even if I did, it’s been proven my songs cannot be relied upon to feed my wife. What if I disappoint her again and she’ll leave me once more? _

_ I’ll never doubt my wife’s powers ever again! _

_ It cannot be this easy . . . . . . .  _

_ We finally won against the gods . . . . . . . _

_ We’re almost there . . . . . . _

_ We’re almost there . . . . . . _

It was true. They were almost there.

  
  


* * *

  
  
“My Ingrid,” Dorothea whispered hoarsely.

“Dorothea,” Ingrid answered.

They were almost there.

But Dorothea had turned around, for sure her wife had stopped following her.

Tragically, she didn’t.

In that brief moment they were facing each other, they attempted to throw their hands out. To reach out to each other.  
  
  


But

it

was

too

late.

* * *

Like Yuri said, it was a sad song. But it was one worth repeating. Because for a brief moment, one mortal woman and her wife had conquered the gods with only a song. 

And though they themselves will perhaps never be reunited, they have certainly changed the lives of King Felix, of the Underworld, and Prince Dimitri, of Spring, forever.

They had reminded the two gods of their love.

* * *

_ “You know, unless I’m dreaming, that actually felt like six months this time. If not slightly longer.” _

_ “Don’t think about it too deeply. Welcome back.” _

_ “ . . . . you know, this is the moment where you usually give me another obscenely expensive gift that I didn’t remember asking for.” _

_ “Well, maybe I realized that it’s not worth it to break other people’s backs for a gemstone you won’t even wear when I’m not in the room. You don’t even take the stones back with you when you go to the surface, do you?” _

_ “ . . . . no. No, I don’t.” _

_ “ . . . . ” _

_ “ . . . . well, maybe for once, I can give you a gift. Here. I think the petals match your eyes. It would look lovely in your hair . . . . oh.” _

_ “You knew it was going to wilt the moment it touched my skin.” _

_ “Hmph. Well, at least it made you smile. Heh, this reminds me of the first time I tried to grow a garden here. I was so excited when I finally managed to make a rose sprout out of the dead soil. I called out for you to come see, but the rose shriveled and died the moment your footsteps approached.” _

_ "You can make spring blossom and harvest grow anywhere but the underworld. I promised you half my kingdom when I proposed but even though you sit on the throne next to mine, your powers cannot flourish in a land of the dead.” _

_ “Well, our domains clash too hard. Death and rebirth: they are forever bound to each other, yet diametric opposites all the same. I think that’s how my father describes our marriage, actually.” _

_ “Hnn, he’s an overprotective smotherer of a man.” _

_ “I think he’s right, though. All of the gods must have raised an eyebrow at the union of the god of spring and the god of death. They must have thought we would’ve murdered each other eventually, in due time.” _

_ “ And yet, you come back, even when I’m jealous and overbearing. Even when you know I’m being unfair. You come home to a kingdom where your gardens cannot grow and you have a husband who cannot express how much he loves you with simple words.” _

_ “ . . . . I do, don’t I? Even when you’re being absolutely insufferable, I still come back. I  _ was _ the one who came up with the pomegranate idea, after all.”  _


End file.
